He had struck his head. Cassandra well knew the consequences of an injury such as that. He might never regain consciousness. He might simply stop breathing. She had seen Mr. Drescher die in just such a way after being thrown from a horse—he breathed until he did not.
At the thought of the lord’s breath fading from him, Cassandra’s mind was at once all clarity. Where her thoughts had felt muddled, they now presented themselves as clear as crystal.
She loved him. Of course she did. She had all along. She’d only let her hurt pride hide it from her. Now, he might be taken from her. How stupid she was! To allow embarrassment and stung feelings to overshadow love.
He would die and it would be her fault.Shehad been the reason he’d been on Lord Dalton’s steps. It had beenherdog who’d raced into the street.
They would both be punished terribly for her idiocy—he, not to live the life he had been given, and she to live a joyless one.
Racine and Ben had carefully laid the litter on the bed and shifted the lord out of it. He moaned softly.
Cassandra raced to him and took his hand. It was warm to the touch, it had not yet begun to go cold.
His eyes fluttered open.
“My lord,” Cassandra said, chafing his hands.
“Edwin, to you,” he rasped.
When she did not answer, he squeezed her hand. “Edwin, say it.”
Cassandra looked away and said softly, “Edwin.”
He attempted to sit up but did not get far with it and rested his head back on the pillow. “I am sorry,” he said hoarsely.
“Oh, do not speak of that now!” Cassandra cried. “You are hurt!”
“Ah,” he said, his voice rough, “had I known I must only be run down by a carriage to convince you to speak to me, I would have done it days ago.”
“You should not speak,” Cassandra said. “You really should not. The doctor has been sent for.”
“Of course I must speak. This may be my last opportunity.”
Cassandra took in a breath. What did he mean, his last opportunity? Did he feel himself dying? She had sat at enough bedsides to comprehend that the dying often knew when it crept close. He could not die. He simply could not.
“Do not talk of dying, my lord… Edwin,” Cassandra said.
Edwin smiled and then winced. “I have no intention of dying just now. I have yet to win the heart of Miss Knightsbridge.”
Cassandra looked away. “Oh, that,” she said quietly.
“Yes, that. I cannot undo what has been done. I, we, can only go forward, if I can convince you of it.”
“I am sure now is not the right—”
“It is exactly the right moment,” Edwin said, his voice low and guttural. “I will be miserable all my life if I do not have my heart’s desire.”
Cassandra had no words. She’d rehearsed no end of words to punish, but none to acquiesce. Her feelings had crystallized only a moment ago and words had not yet attached to them.
Lord Hampton smiled, seeming to comprehend that something in her feelings had shifted. “To convince you of the attractiveness of my offer, I vow that I will buy you an arsenal of guns and you may shoot my estate to pieces if it pleases you.”
“Well,” Cassandra said softly, “youdidrescue my dog. I am very fond of her.”
“And then there is the little matter that I love you. Entirely. I think someday you might come to love me too.”
“Perhaps,” Cassandra said slowly, even now resisting a surrender. “I suppose anything is possible.”
Edwin struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. “Then you will? You say yes? You must say it! I have asked you to wed and you have said you will.”
